


Tastes Like Boiled Dirt

by Sunsini



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsini/pseuds/Sunsini
Summary: Despite all the things he has lost, Genji, in fact, didn’t lose his ability to taste food. However, he deeply believes that he did, and this belief has stopped him from tasting anything since. Meanwhile, McCree is bewildered, why does everyone at the base seem to think he and Genji are great buddies?





	Tastes Like Boiled Dirt

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [【OW】咖啡与烂泥](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289648) by [Sunsini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsini/pseuds/Sunsini). 



> This is a translation to my own work; I apologize in advance if anything sounds weird. Not a native English speaker, but I love the language.

Their angel, Miss Angela Ziegler, is gently patching them up like usual; but then she realizes McCree has spaced out when she tries to explain _this_ to him, she smiles and fastens his bandages just a little tighter, and a little tighter -- until the cowboy squeals a little, forced to pay attention to what she’s saying. He blinks a few times, while doing the most innocent expression possible.

“So, Genji Shimada’s got perfectly working taste buds, he’s just got mental problem that’s being reflected on him physically. Anyhow, Doc, ” says McCree, “my dear Angie, could you remind me again -- how does this have anything to do with me?”

Angela raises her eyebrows, “Don’t you feel maybe you could help your colleagues out sometimes? Afterall, you guys are pretty close.”

McCree puts up his unwounded arm, with two fingers out. “One, I’m confident that my colleagues can _usually_ take care of themselves. Two, why does everyone around here thinks him and I are on good terms?”

This is baffling. He doesn’t understand. No matter how you put it, how could anyone seriously think they get along? What he means is, Genji and him did _not_ have the greatest start on the very first day when they met in the training room, it was bad -- really, really bad. All his bullets that was supposed to hit on the target perfectly was deflected by _the ninja_ , who consequently dashed and bumped him out of the shooting range when he was reloading (or, you know, rolling). So the next day he throw a nice, juicy flashbang right at the other’s feet, while Genji was all giddy he took off the cyberg’s faceplate.

That’s how it began. They would find any chance pulling stunt on each other (except when they’re expected to act professionally on a mission, of course), and what they did was utter childish. Like when Genji accidentally spilled (dumped, in revision) nasty tomato juice on him, leaving persistent stains; like when McCree accidentally made Genji trip when ninja was doing triple jump (not my fault he doesn’t walk properly, McCree says); like Genji pulled his chair away when he was sitting down; like when Genji made a turn around the corner, there waits McCree who decided to put an empty bucket on Genji’s head. Until Ana, who’s always been very tolerant on this sort of children’s play, finally had enough of it, and shot them with her sleep darts. Ten hours they passed out on the hard cement ground, and almost died of souring backs in the next two days, that’s when they finally agreed to stop it all at once.

“We are not close!” McCree shouts as Angela leaves, dreams of clarify this misunderstanding, but Doc just rolled her eyes where he can’t see, “Not at all!”

* * *

 

Angela gave him a mission, doesn’t mean he’s gonna do it -- McCree hums, biting on his cigar. Not really a mission, he’s just helping out his friend Angie, but when he thinks like this he is unable to decline what Angela asks of him. Damn it, he scratches the back of his head, the curls popping out under his hat. What can he do? Genji is so convinced that he has lost his taste buds, even if McCree is able to get a table with the world’s most delicious cuisine (considering how they were being hostile to each other, maybe he needs that flashbang again, so that he can tie Genji onto a chair in front of the dining table), he highly doubts that’s gonna do anything. You can’t explain colour to a blind man, can’t expect a deaf man to appreciate Brahms, can’t make a train fly across a broken bridge.

He doesn’t know why Morrison insisted on sending Genji with him for this particular mission. Reyes said it’s because he was afraid that McCree would jump off the cliff beside Route 66 on a whim. But recalling Reyes’ face when he was saying that, McCree is sure he was imagining how Genji would push him off the cliff. Morrison had a better-sounding answer, despite that it is a straight-forward clean-up mission, McCree’s gonna need someone to watch over his back. Come on, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t stab me from the back -- McCree was going to use this as an excuse, but then he thought about how Genji has always been extremely professional on the field. He’s not very against this arrangement now since he knows Genji wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t do. Maybe he’ll smear Genji’s chair with superglue later, but he will never do anything childish, stupid, and potentially harmful to his partner while they are working.

Genji has taken seat across the table. There are a few hours before anything starts, they can have some time in this diner. Waitress gave them a piece of hard cardboard, the menu. Genji didn’t even touch his. McCree flips it back and forth, and snorts at the coffee menu.

The table beside has ordered coffee. McCree can’t help feeling pity. “I’ll never order coffee here at any cost,” He lowered his voice, in case the grumpy waitress catches it, “tastes like boiled dirt.”

And that’s what he did. His order avoids coffee entirely: milk, cheeseburger, onion rings, apple pie, cheesecake. He really, really hates the coffee. What he doesn’t know, is that Genji has been raising his eyebrows for a while under his faceplate.

“Is the coffee here this bad?” After the waitress leaves, Genji asks.

“It’s awful.” McCree thinks he’s just asking, “It’s like drinking from a boot that stumped in mud after the rain.” 

“Well. I think,”  Genji says, crosses his arms, a familiar tone -- actually, the same kind of tone he used to apologize when he accidentally spilled 2.0L tomato juice right on McCree, “you don’t dare to try anything other than milk here.”

McCree doesn’t know what to say. So this is about their little feuds again. “Seriously?” He bites on his cigar. Unbelievable. Honestly? He’s smoking a goddamn cigar, surely that proves him _mature_ enough for alcohol.

Genji hums, and calls for the waitress again. He orders coffee. 

“You’re done for.” When everything they ordered is there, McCree mumbles. He’s got the American breakfast combo, from drinks to dessert. And ninja’s got a cup of lonely-standing coffee. It looks like witch’s potion, with black foams floating on top, smells like dust.

“Who knows.” Genji says as he takes off his faceplate. They are sitting in a corner near the window, and Genji has his back facing the rest of the room. Only McCree can see his face, and he _knows_ what he looks like under that faceplate, so he is not concerned. All Genji has to do is to take a sip, with the amount of coffee that he wants in his remaining stomach in mind, careful with the hot drink, the undrinkable coffee, and he drinks to make Jesse McCree embarrassed for being wrong.

McCree looks at him; Genji puts aside the faceplate, takes the cup and blows on it, then sips on what he calls boiled dirt.

“How’s that?” He asks, he's poking his apple pie with his fork.

He sees how Genji’s face shifted at least five times within a second, and he tries very hard not to laugh. Genji’s changed from being confident to being confused, then _unbelievable_ , then pure endurance. He’s not spitting the thing out either because he’s taught better, or he’s more focused on their boring arguments, or both. As proven by fact, McCree is being incredibly honest on how terrible the coffee is, it’s basically dust with hot water, and sand.

“Told ya.” McCree says. He soon realizes another thing -- Genji has more or less noticed that too. Genji hesitates and licks his lips, the remaining bitterness is the prove that he asks for. He’s confused, he looks at McCree with confusion:

“I don’t understand, but I can’t...”

He doesn’t get to finish that. McCree takes the sugary cherry on his cake by the stalk and pushes it against Genji’s lips. Genji looks at him in disbelief. The sugary scent escapes to his tongue, so he might as well open his mouth and swallows the cherry. He chews on it slowly, allowing the sensation to over-float. He always thought he can never taste anything ever again -- well, now it seems obvious that that’s not true. His taste buds that were once washed with bitterness are now treated by sweetness, tasting the joy of being able to taste.

McCree throws the cherry stalk away. He pretends to keep his eyes on his pie, tries to slow down his heartbeat. He doesn’t even know why it suddenly went on a race. May be right at the moment when Genji bites off the cherry from the stalk. His fingertip was touching Genji’s lips. He felt that scar, it was hard, right in the middle of Genji’s soft lips. He almost forgot to pull his hand away, he wanted to touch it more than to pull away. Fortunately Genji is preoccupied with his recovering taste, so he didn’t notice how strangely McCree was acting.

He waits a bit before he raises his head. It seems Genji is still surprised at this. The warm afternoon sunlight is casted right on Genji’s scarred face, McCree forgets how to breath for brief seconds. He now understands why back then he _couldn’t_ understand Genji’s reason for being upset after he took off his faceplate; namely, he wasn’t scared or shocked when he first saw Genji’s face.

Instead he was thinking about how much that would hurt. Back then Genji aggressively took the faceplate from him and put it back on. Right now Genji is slowly taking his faceplate from the table, and installing it in the most gentle way possible. 

Before his faceplate slides in, before McCree hears the soft clicking sound, he definitely heard something else. It was light and quiet. He almost missed it. 

”Thank you.” 


End file.
